


...With a Cherry On Top

by annabagnell



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Inflation, M/M, belly bloating, belly stuffing, overeating kink, whipped cream inflation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 06:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12270390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: Sherlock didn’t really feel it at first, but after a few seconds he could feel the cream moving into his guts, a small influx of pressure at first that quickly grew intense. “Ooh,” he breathed, watching as John moved his hand to the side. It didn’t take long for his shirt to start to shift - or, rather, for his lower belly to start to fill up in a way that made his shirt stretch. Before his eyes, his lower stomach was filling up and getting round.





	...With a Cherry On Top

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes I'm naming my filthy whipped cream inflation kink fic 'with a cherry on top' because honestly at this point what is propriety?) 
> 
> Okay, so, be warned, this is some fairly unrealistic belly stuffing/bloating/inflation kink fic, but oh well, I do as my clitoris commands me. Also I'm not totally clear as to whether or not the actual heavy cream is what goes into the body during a whipped cream inflation but I also...don't care? So if it's unrealistic, realize what you're reading and take that into consideration. Other than that, enjoy, you filthy bastards. I know I did.

Sherlock felt huge. John had been feeding him small sips of water on and off for over an hour, and his stomach was very full. He hadn’t had much to eat for dinner, but drinking a few bottles of water on top of a regular meal was still enough to have him bloated - full, but not uncomfortable. He rolled onto his back with some effort and slid a hand down to rest on his stomach, which was warm under his soft t-shirt.

 

“Nice little tum,” John complimented, his hand joining Sherlock’s with a gentle pat. Sherlock preened, humming. “Even starting to get a little round. More water?”

 

“Tired of water,” Sherlock sighed, glancing down. John was right - it was a little round. Usually when they did this, his stomach would just get…less flat, looking thicker than usual. Sherlock liked the roundness, though. “Something different.”

 

John made a thoughtful noise. “I have some soda,” he said, but he sounded a bit funny when he said it. Sherlock looked up. “I want you to drink it, but not burp. Let the gas build up. That’ll make you look even rounder.”

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but nodded in agreement. He could sense John’s anticipation and excitement, and he felt the same feelings start to build, himself. “Get me a straw, then,” he said. He would need to stay lying down as he drank - if he were sitting up too straight, he’d be able to burp and he’d lose all the carbonation. John got up and returned a few moments later with a cold two-litre bottle of soda and a long straw. He sat back down and put Sherlock’s head back in his lap, and put the straw to his lips. Sherlock put a hand on the bottle to steady it and began to drink.

 

The water had been tap-cold, but the soda had been refrigerated, so it was even colder as it slid down Sherlock’s throat. He felt the fizz of the carbonation on his tongue and as it met his stomach’s contents, bubbling a little. “Ooh,” he said, stroking the top of his stomach. “That’s delightful.”

 

“Yeah?” John asked, combing his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.

 

“Yeah,” Sherlock replied. “It fizzes, when it goes down. I can feel the gas, a bit.”

 

“I bet you’ll feel it a lot, the more you drink,” John said, and Sherlock knew what that meant, so he kept drinking.

 

John was right, of course. Sherlock started to feel the pressure of the gas building after a few more swallows, tight at the top of his stomach. Had he been sitting up, he would have responded to it naturally by letting it out, but lying down kept it trapped there. The pressure of the gas was different than that of a liquid, more urgent, harder somehow. He drank more, a little urgently, wanting to feel the pressure build.

 

It did. “Ough,” he said, feeling a bit frothy. Not quite half of the two-liter was gone, and though logically he knew the carbonation didn’t have much volume in the drink, it was a noticeable difference from a non-carbonated liquid bloat. He looked down at his stomach, which was definitely rounder than it had been half a liter ago. He laid his hand over the tightest spot of it, which was where he felt the pressure of the gas like a fist inside him, and kneaded. “Ooh, ough. I want to burp.”

 

“Don’t do it,” John said, shaking his head. “Let it build. I can tell you like the feeling.”

 

“I do,” Sherlock said, stopping his hand from kneading. He didn’t want to encourage his body to burp. His shirt was tight there, but he also liked the feeling of the shirt stretching around his filling middle. He brought the straw back to his lips and kept drinking.

 

Each sip had him feeling more and more full, as the carbonation kept popping and expanding inside him. He could feel his stomach getting tighter and tighter with the gas and the drink. Intrigued by the feeling, he moved his body from side to side, making the liquid inside him slosh audibly. The pressure changed a little, the gas mixing with the liquid and making his stomach bubble. “Ough,” he said, clapping a hand to his stomach as the sloshing settled. “That’s…very full.”

 

John waggled the two-liter bottle next to him. “Not quite done,” he said, teasing. “You haven’t even had to take your shirt off yet, tubby. You’ve got more space in there yet.” Sherlock made a face and took the straw, taking a few long sips to spite John. It didn’t take long to finish off the rest of the bottle, the straw sucking air loudly inside the empty plastic container for a second before John took the bottle away. Sherlock glanced down and made a guttural noise.

 

His stomach was extremely full, rounded out from the two-liter of soda and the bottles of water he’d drank on top of his regular meal. The carbonation sat like a tight fist at the top of his stomach, rising and creating a hard peak under his skin. He kneaded at it through the shirt, moaning quietly. It was rock solid under his hand thanks to the un-released pressure of the gas. Lazily, Sherlock lifted his hips to pull his shirt up to bare his stomach, grunting for effect as he moved. “John,” he murmured, running his hand up from his lower stomach up to where that knot of pressure sat, hard and hot.

 

“That is a beautiful belly you’ve made there, love,” John praised, putting his hand where Sherlock’s was. His fingers prodded gently at Sherlock’s stomach, finding very little resistance. “So much pressure, hmm? What do you think, do you like that?”

 

“Makes me feel so full,” Sherlock said, sliding his hand down to cup his groin and massage his cock. His arm brushed his full belly, the feeling of which was so alien that it was delightful. “Want to stay like this. Full and round.”

 

“You know, you didn’t have much trouble finishing the soda,” John mused. “I could get you some more to drink. Really top you up. Or fill you up from…the other end,” he suggested, and Sherlock moaned quietly. They hadn’t done that much, but the few times they had, it had been an enlightening experience. John seemed to figure out which of the two options made Sherlock the most eager, and he rubbed Sherlock’s stomach a little roughly. “We could try the whipped cream again. Since you seem to be enjoying air pressure today.” Sherlock nodded, still fondling his cock, his other hand on his belly. “We’ll need to move to the bed, though.”

 

“I’ll lose the carbonation if I stand up,” Sherlock said, frowning. “I’ll burp.”

 

“Try not to,” John said. “But I have more soda to top you up, if you want.” Sherlock heaved a sigh, his belly rising and falling with the breath, and he struggled to sit up around his bloated middle. He felt the shift in pressure right away and felt his body immediately react by trying to burp, but he made a grunting noise and kept his mouth closed firmly, trying to override it. A small burp bubbled up but he managed to keep most of the carbonation in as he stood up to go to the bedroom.

 

He sloshed a little along the way, all the liquid in his tummy moving around the gas that filled the rest of his bloated organ. He waited until he’d laid back down, remainder of the gas still safely in his stomach, before speaking again. “I’m sloshy,” he called, stroking his stomach.

 

John laughed as he came into the bedroom, a can of soda with a straw in one hand and a large can of whipped cream in the other. “You’ve got a lot of liquid in that tummy,” he said, bending down to kiss it. He tossed Sherlock’s shirt back at him. “Put that back on.”

 

Sherlock obeyed, pulling the shirt down over his stomach. It still went down the whole way, but it was tightest over the top of his stomach, where the carbonation still made his skin tight. John knelt between his legs and Sherlock let him take his pants off, then spread his legs to let John put the hose for the whipped cream in. Sherlock shivered a little in anticipation.

 

“It’ll be cold,” John said, laying his hand on Sherlock’s lower stomach and rubbing softly. “I’ll do the cream first and top off with the gas, if you take all of it. But you’re pretty full already, so.” Sherlock nodded and propped his head up on a pillow, eager to watch.

 

John pulled the cap off the can of whipped cream and stuck the tip in the end of the hose, then pressed down. Sherlock didn’t really feel it at first, but after a few seconds he could feel the cream moving into his guts, a small influx of pressure at first that quickly grew intense. “Ooh,” he breathed, watching as John moved his hand to the side. It didn’t take long for his shirt to start to shift - or, rather, for his lower belly to start to fill up in a way that made his shirt stretch. Before his eyes, his lower stomach was filling up and getting round.

 

The pressure continued to build in his guts as the heavy cream and nitrous oxide gas combined and pushed through his body, expanding in volume. Sherlock made another deep noise and rubbed at his stomach as his skin stretched, his shirt getting tighter now. John’s hand caressed his side and the bottom of his belly, which was starting to get so curved that his cock was disappearing from his sight.

 

Moments later - “Ooh - oh, ooh, stop,” Sherlock gasped, and John stopped. Sherlock’s thighs were spread wide and he rocked his hips a little as sharp spines of discomfort stabbed at his guts, which were filled unfamiliarly. John rubbed soothingly and some of the pressure dissipated, his body adjusting. He took a few shallow breaths and looked down at his belly.

 

It was round all over now, not just the top where he’d filled himself with liquids. His lower stomach was rounded and full with whipped cream, and his shirt was stretching tight around his middle. “More,” he breathed, plucking at the tight cotton fabric. John smiled, patted Sherlock’s belly, and pressed down on the nozzle again.

 

The pressure in Sherlock’s stomach kept building. John went in short bursts, a few seconds each, giving Sherlock time to adjust. He started to feel packed full and soon his shirt lost its elasticity, clinging tight to his belly. He stifled a grunt as he shifted and his belly sloshed and panged with pain. His cock was well out of sight now, his belly rising upward more and more with each ounce of whipped cream from the can. He could feel John pause to shake the can. “Probably half gone,” he said, and Sherlock did moan, then. Could he fit another half can of whipped cream inside him? The sheer volume of gas, expanding inside him…

 

His shirt hem was digging uncomfortably into his stomach. He slid a finger under the hem and was surprised to feel how tight it was. “Look at that beautiful belly,” John said, his fingers pushing the hem up over the fullest part of Sherlock’s belly, giving him a little relief. “Getting too big for your shirt.”

 

“Very full,” Sherlock said thickly, grinning wide and patting his rounded middle lazily. He made a noise somewhere between a purr and a groan when John filled him with another few seconds’ worth of whipped cream, his thighs falling open, at the mercy of his partner to fill him up even more.

 

“You should drink your soda,” John suggested, kneading the tight skin of Sherlock’s lower belly and giving him another few seconds of cream. “I got you a straw.” Sherlock twisted his head and saw the can there, open, with the straw inside. He looked back down at himself, at his bloated, full middle, and he ran a hand down his body, fingers prodding at his tight skin, cupping the curve of his stomach. He nodded, scratched at his full belly for a moment, and then reached up for the can.

 

He drank slow sips of the soda, letting John continue to fill him up with short bursts from the compressed whipped cream can. His shirt got tight again and he put his soda can down to wiggle uncomfortably out of the tight shirt, tossing it aside. He used both hands to marvel at his new form, running his hands from his flat chest down over his jutting, cresting belly. The lower part was fuller now than the top, thanks to the whipped cream, round and firm with very little give. “Full,” he said, looking at John, his brain half offline.

 

“Drink your soda,” John reminded, bending forward to kiss Sherlock’s full stomach. “Finish that, and I’ll suck you off, hmm?”

 

Sherlock shivered at the thought and goosebumps rose across his whole body, even over his middle, which rippled a little with the little contractions in his skin. He let out a little moan and a guttural grunt, holding his stomach with one hand while he picked the can back up.

 

Soon, the can of whipped cream became nothing but nitrous oxide, and Sherlock hummed happily as John emptied the last of it into him. He was fuller now than he’d ever been, the pressure in his belly incredible. He’d been so focused on the pressure in his lower stomach that he’d almost ignored the pressure in his upper belly, which he’d slowly been filling with more soda. That knot of pressure from the carbonation had come back and made the peak in his stomach even harder and more pronounced. He ran his palm over it and pressed down, then groaned loudly. “John.”

 

“Finish the soda,” John said, kissing the spot gently. “I’ll be right back.” He padded out of the room and Sherlock stared at himself, his body fuller and rounder than he’d ever seen it. He pressed his fingertips in everywhere - it was rock solid all over. He took another sip of his soda and let out a little moan when he swallowed, his stomach starting to become painfully overfull. John came back with a bottle of lotion and something else, Sherlock couldn’t see what, which he dropped on the bed and then ignored in favor of drizzling lotion all over Sherlock’s tummy. “Look at this,” John purred, working his hands all over the tight, full surface. “Look at how big you got, Sherlock. You’re so round, baby. Look at how full you got for me. Can you suck it in, baby?”

 

Sherlock shook his head but tried anyway. He winced and let out a whine, rubbing his side painfully. “Too full,” he complained, feeling again like he needed to burp, to release some pressure, but he couldn’t. “So big, John. Your big - something.”

 

“My big something, indeed,” John praised, rubbing the lotion in all over, very tenderly. His hands were soothing on the incredible pressure of Sherlock’s belly. “My very big, very round, very full Sherlock. That’s what you are. Did you finish your soda?” Sherlock shook his head no and took another sip from the can, breathless as he swallowed and took another sip. His belly heaved with the effort of his shallow breaths as he finished off the can and caught his breath afterward, pain spiking out from his belly. “That’s it, that’s my beautiful man. So full for me. Feels so good, hmm? To be so full?” John’s fingers pressed in around the fullest parts of his stomach - the top, where that knot of carbonation sat hard and tight, the middle where it stretched so far around his navel, the bottom, where Sherlock couldn’t see but could feel his skin stretching around his packed guts. “Now, I think I promised you a nice blow job as a reward, didn’t I?” John praised, and Sherlock nodded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

 

He felt the short hose move and he made a questioning noise. John reached up to caress Sherlock’s stretched stomach and made a soothing noise. “Don’t worry, love. Nothing you can’t handle. I’ll make you feel so good,” he said, and started to lick and suck at the head of Sherlock’s cock, teasing it to life. Sherlock moaned and let himself relax into the pleasure, somehow heightened by the pressure in his stuffed, round stomach.

 

John worked at him and soon he was hard enough that John could bob up and down on his cock. Sherlock rubbed his stomach with one hand lazily, enjoying the heightened pleasure after his extreme bloating. His belly was fuller than it had ever been, and so round and tight that he could just see the top of John’s head over its full curve. And the pressure was -

 

Getting tighter. Sherlock moaned and rubbed at his lower belly, trying to figure out what was happening. John pulled off his cock and Sherlock made a plaintive noise. “Just relax,” John soothed, and Sherlock realized that John had gotten another can while he was gone, and was slowly filling Sherlock up even more. ‘Nothing you can’t handle,’ he remembered, and he moaned helplessly, rubbing intently at his belly.

 

John nodded and went back to suckling at Sherlock’s cock. Just when Sherlock would start to feel close, John would put a few seconds’ worth of whipped cream into him, and the pressure would make him ache so much that the pleasure would ebb. He started to feel packed uncomfortably full, like he might burst, and he said John’s name, pained. John responded by sliding a hand up over Sherlock’s distended lower gut, teasing over the painfully tight belly. Sherlock was at John’s mercy.

 

He ached, and felt on the edge of coming, all at once. His stomach arced away from his body, so tight and full that he now couldn’t see John’s head at all. He clutched desperately at his stomach as John filled him more, and sucked him until Sherlock’s toes curled. “Ough,” he coughed, the pressure in his stomach so great that he felt like he might burst. “Ohhh. Ugh, oh, uh.” Another burst of pressure, this one longer than the last, so that Sherlock felt his stomach expand under his fingers. He couldn’t take any more, could he? He was so full, his body couldn’t fit any more, surely.

 

John’s tongue circled the head of his cock and Sherlock cried out, pushing up into John’s mouth. The movement made his stuffed belly cramp and he cried out again, holding his distended belly, so close to coming that he was shaking now. Another long burst of pressure had his fingers scratching over his stomach, sure he’d pop open. John’s fingers dug into his belly, so pained and stuffed and crammed tight that it felt like John was going to pop him like a balloon. Sherlock howled and came, his stomach cramping as John pushed down and emptied the last of the whipped cream and gas into his ballooned body.

 

When Sherlock could open his eyes again, he took in the sight of himself. His stomach was crammed so full that he could see blue veins at the surface of it. There was still that hard lump where the carbonation had gathered, making his stomach come to a peak. Further down, the pressure was even greater, two cans of whipped cream distending his lower guts until they peaked at his navel, his stomach wide and rounded. The curve back down to his softening cock was stretched so tight that it barely gave beneath his fingertips. He rolled with effort onto his side, unable to curl up because of the pressure, so with no relief he rolled back onto his back, still sloshing from the liquids. “John,” he said helplessly, his voice thick. He clutched his full belly. “Full. Uh. Ohh, ough. Gonna. Pop.”

 

“Be right back,” John promised, dropping a kiss to his engorged stomach.


End file.
